


Salvio Hexia

by AlphaRail



Category: Hannibal (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Chilton Being an Asshole, Crossover, Legilimency, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, Marauders' Era, Possessive Hannibal, Pre-Marauders' Era, Someone Helps Will Graham, Young Hannibal, Young Will Graham
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:32:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaRail/pseuds/AlphaRail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sometimes violent, sometimes comedic rendition of Wizard!Will Graham's encounters with Wizard!Hannibal Lecter during their 6th year at Hogwarts. After defending Will's honor, Hannibal becomes rather attached. He may have taken things too far, but what else is new? Takes place right before the Marauders' Era. Rated M for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Live Long and Prosper

**Author's Note:**

> All of these characters belong to Thomas Harris and J.K. Rowling. Thank you to my wonderful best friends for brainstorming up this entire story with me while we were drunk - I don't know yet if Big Fond or Little Dobbys are going to make an appearance.

Two blue eyes blankly watched the green and ghost-grey hills of autumnal Scotland sail along through the thick, ancient windows of the Hogwarts Express. The clack-clack of rushing wheels was like the sound of an old film reel; the view had the same desolate beauty as a backdrop in some scene out of _Nosferatu_. The glass in these window panes was so weathered by time and sunlight, he noticed, that it had melted gently towards the bottom corners, warping the dimensions of the passing view.

 _Not that most kids were quietly sitting and enjoying the sights on their way to goddamn wizard school_ , he thought to himself. He sighed and fixed his glasses, which were bent from falling asleep with his head against the wall of the little compartment.

It was Will Graham’s sixth time riding the train to Hogwarts, and it was the fifth time he had somehow gotten a compartment all to himself. The first time he ever took this trip, he had taken a seat with a couple of boys who were charming the pieces of a Wizard’s Chess set to stay in place on their board for the bumpy ride. He had looked up from his book – his first remotely magic-related book, “Enchanted Encounters” by Fifi LaFolle – and shyly suggested they simply use magnets or tape. They gaped at him as if he’d just sprouted a third arm and ignored him for the rest of the ride. During his first few weeks at Hogwarts, Will was pushed around by the older students and giggled at by girls for his disheveled appearance and slight southern drawl.There were other kids from different countries at Hogwarts, but Will stuck out awkwardly even among them. Sooner or later, though, the novelty of the quiet, bespectacled Louisiana boy wore off and he faded into the background. He was thankful. Most witches and wizards were more open-minded than the average muggle, but Will knew by then that there were more than enough exceptions to warrant his avoidance.

As the distant high towers of Hogwarts began to peek out from over the rolling hills, Will grabbed his uniform off the seat across from his. He struggled with his wrinkled blue and bronze Ravenclaw tie and slipped his old robes over his shoulders. Trying to un-squish his hair, he gazed through the window again. The lights from inside the castle, from the candlelit dormitories and hundreds of warm fireplaces, turned the windows into twinkling stars in the deepening night sky. Kids who hadn’t been raised in muggle families took these sorts of things for granted, Will thought. His mother, who had passed away more than a decade ago, had attended Hogwarts and may have sat in this same seat at one time or another. He remembered very little about his mother, but had been uncharacteristically over the moon to follow in her footsteps when he received his Hogwarts letter through an open window in his small home in rural Louisiana. It was June 12th, 1969 – Will would always remember that day. At the age of eleven, questioning his heritage and trying to deduce the extent of his own magical abilities, he had learned enough about the wizarding world to become slightly anxious at the prospect of receiving (or _not_ receiving) his letter. He had almost given up hope by the time the delivery owl reached him in New Orleans. Will’s father had been unmoved by this sudden fortuity, as his nose was buried in a glass of bourbon the entire morning.

Speaking of bourbon, tonight was bound to get a little out of control. If tradition held true, anyone over the age of 14 would be celebrating the start of the school year in the house common rooms all night long. Last year, Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller had learned how to charm pumpkin juice into what one could loosely call “cider”, and four houses worth of teenagers had all crammed themselves into the Gryffindor common room to get sloshed and make bad decisions. Everyone was about 90% sure afterwards that Dumbledore knew what had been going on, and just didn't say anything. Will wasn't much of a partier, but he was a drinker. Before leaving for Hogwarts, he had slipped a bottle of scotch into his trunk with plans to drink it tonight alone over a good book.

 _Perfectly fine night_ , he thought to himself.

Suddenly the sliding door to Will's compartment opened just enough for a young man to poke his head in and peer around, his eyes landing on Will.

 _Was it possible for a 16-year-old boy to look like a car salesman in a toupee?_ He wondered, _because that's what Frederick Chilton looks like_.

“Hello, Frederick.”

“Will Graham! So good to see you again. How was your Summer, hmm?” Chilton hobbled in uninvited and used his gaudy, bejeweled cane to push Will's stack of books aside on the unoccupied bench. “This seat taken?”

“Summer was fine. What do you want?”

“Mine was _fabulous_ , thanks for asking. Vienna is just _gorgeous_ this time of year. Anyway I just wanted to stop by and say hello. You know, just making sure you didn't die in a swamp or something over the break. You have swamps down there, right?” He smiled crookedly. “Actually, I wanted to ask you if you might be interested in a little _get-together_ we're having in the Slytherin common room tonight. Sounds like it's going to be pretty _interesting_.”

Will's face wrinkled in a wordless response as he began gathering his textbooks. “I don't think so, Frederick. I have a lot I need to get done tonight.”

“Like what, organizing your flannel shirt drawer? Jerking off to last week's _I Dream of Jeannie_? Get it together, Graham. Everyone's going to be there. I'm pretty sure we hauled in enough wine to fill a goddamn swimming pool, and Lucius Malfoy smuggled in a bunch of gillyweed wax from Morocco or some shit country.” He stared at Will, waiting, then sighed. “I think Alana is coming.”

Will glanced at Chilton, then back to the window.

“Just think about it.” Chilton grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet, giving Will a once-over. “It's a costume party, by the way. I'm sure what you're wearing will be just fine, though.” He chuckled to himself as he left the compartment and slid the door shut.

Will looked down at his ratty sweater and slacks with mild disdain and buried his head in his hands.

 _Maybe I should go to the party this year_ , he thought. Then he immediately thought about the last party he went to and how he had passed out and woken up in the prefects' bathtub, fully dressed. He thought about that book he was wanting to finish tonight. Then he thought about Alana and what costume she might wear. _Maybe she and Margot and Bedelia will dress up as Charlie's Angels like they did last year, or...I know how much she loves Star Trek, maybe she'll go as-”_ Will stopped. He was getting way ahead of himself. _And I guess in the end_ , he thought, _what's the point in finishing off my scotch when I could be drinking on Lucius Malfoy's dime all night?_

 

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

 

Will sat on his bed, sipping whisky and transfiguring odds and ends into a makeshift costume while he made up his mind about the party. After an hour or so, he realized everyone had left already and he was the last one in the dormitory.

_Really? As if this wasn't sad enough already._

He hummed as he glued on his rubbery, pointed prosthetic ears. Looking in the mirror before heading downstairs, he blushed in brief embarrassment at his own reflection.

“This is...most illogical, Captain,” Will quoted to the rinky-dink vulcan in the mirror. Luckily, he had imbibed just enough scotch not to care.

 

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

 

“Come in, come--” Lucius Malfoy stood holding the doors of the Slytherin dungeons open, beckoning Will to enter, then halted in his tracks. Craning his neck, he shouted into the crowd behind him, “OH. MY. GOD. Parkinson, come look at this!”

“What? Come on, Malfoy. Just let me in,” Will muttered.

Pete Parkinson arrived at the door with a questioning look. Lucius pointedly glanced at Will, and as Parkinson's eyes followed, his mouth fell open and he began laughing uncontrollably. In that moment, Will's thought process took a sharp turn to realize that Pete and Lucius were both dressed in a tasteful suit and tie. His heart fell into his stomach. Pete grabbed him by his shoulders, yanking him into the room and shutting the door.

“What the FUCK are you _wearing?_ ” Lucius cackled, “this party is fucking _black tie_ , Graham! Not some kind of weird _elf_ orgy.”

“What the fuck, Malfoy? What...what's...” Will stammered.

Looking out into the crowd, Will saw that the entire room was filled with boys in sharp jackets and girls in cocktail dresses. People began to giggle and whisper to one another, then Chilton caught his eye from a distance and grinned wickedly. Will was speechless and frozen where he stood. He glanced toward the bathrooms and thought to escape there, to take off his costume or – oh, god...Alana was standing right there. He fought back the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes, hot from his reddened cheeks.

Suddenly an arm reached out from beside Malfoy and grabbed Will's arm, tugging gently at the elbow of his starfleet uniform. A calm, sanguine voice came from somewhere behind Will's right ear (which was starting to peel off, naturally).

“Ah, gentlemen, but it is so _refreshing_ to see a new rendition of black tie, I think. And is it not appropriate for a military commander to don his uniform at a formal event? Please excuse us, Lucius.”

Malfoy glanced up, and his gleeful smirk turned into...fear? The boy pulled at Will's arm again, this time emphatically dragging him out of the dungeon and into the hallway. They eventually came to a stop in an empty corner of Slytherin's damp, dark outer corridor. Will, still confounded, was finally able to take in the nameless young man's appearance in the flickering candlelight. Towering a bit over Will's small frame, he had dirty blonde hair and wore a well-tailored black tuxedo. His features seemed odd somehow, Will thought.

“Good evening, Mr. Graham. My name is Hannibal Lecter.”

Will had definitely heard that name before. He had somehow never met him, though, as Ravenclaw rarely held classes alongside Slytherin.

“If you aren't opposed, please follow me.”

“F-follow you where?” Will stuttered, “what's going on?”

“I thought we might be able to find something more appropriate for you to wear, if that's alright with you. I'm sorry for assuming--”

“No, no...don't be sorry. I mean...thank you, really. That's nice of you, but it's not necessary. I think I'm just gonna go back upstairs and call it a night.”

“I insist, Mr. Graham. I have plenty of suits to spare.”

Will bit his lip, suddenly even more embarrassed and all too aware that he was still wearing his Spock wig in front of this well-dressed stranger. Hannibal truly looked at him this time, chipper and empathetic while Will stood there, feeling defeated.

“It would be rather unwise to let Lucius and Peter put a damper on the evening, William. Assinine pranks are simply their way of seeking the precious validation their fathers apparently did not provide them in their formative years.”

Will sighed and nodded weakly in agreement. Hannibal smiled and took Will's hand, looking a bit tickled about the whole situation.

 _He's wearing white silk gloves, for Christ's sake_ , Will noticed.

They strode back past the dungeon toward the Slytherin dormitories. Hannibal muttered the password to an innocuous stone wall at the end of the hallway and it slid open, welcoming them into an unexpectedly cozy room, lit by a fireplace and lined with beds. Hannibal sat Will down in a velvety green armchair and started flipping through the suits in his armoire like pages in a book.

“How many suits do you _have_?”

“Enough. You never know when you're going to need a double-breasted white tuxedo...or a kimono.” He laughed, running his hands over different fabrics absently and eventually pulling out a dark red suit jacket. “Try this on for me.”

Will stood up as Hannibal held the jacket open for him. He slipped his arms in and Hannibal swung around to button it and adjust the collar. It was too big, of course, but Hannibal deftly uttered alteration spells to tailor it to Will's body.

“Perfect. I have some older shirts that will fit you, too, and shoes...” Hannibal trailed off and looked thoughtfully at Will, deciding several things in his head at once. He disappeared into a closet and came out with his hands full.

“Take all of that off, Will. I've got a couple of things here.”

_A couple of things._

Will conceded, awkwardly stripping down to his boxers, trying and failing to be discreet about it. Hannibal's broad hands brushed across Will's bare shoulders and throat and abdomen, expertly buttoning and tying until Will was blushing and dressed head to toe in black and burgundy. Hannibal walked Will to his floor-length mirror and stood behind him, hands at Will's waist.

“Very handsome, if I do say so myself.” Hannibal smiled, utterly pleased with his work. “What do you think?”

“It looks...great. Thank you. This is really...it's too much. This feels...too expensive to just let someone borrow.”

“Please, keep it. I think you would agree I hardly need it.”

“No, no, I...I'll never have any reason to wear this again. It's way too nice.”

“Think of it as a favor to me. Keep it,” Hannibal insisted. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of cognac and two glasses. “Now, before we head back, may I ask what happened between you and Lucius Malfoy?”

Will sat and stared into the crackling fireplace beside them as Hannibal handed him a drink. Will was angry about it now, more than embarrassed.

“It was Chilton, actually. He came up to me on the train today and told me to come to the costume party, that everyone was gonna be there.” Will took a long sip from his glass and exhaled through his teeth. “And...I guess it wasn't a costume party. I don't know why I was surprised.”

Hannibal's face was blank, but somehow looked even angrier than Will's.

“Do you and Chilton, like, know each other? I mean I know you're in the same house, but....”

“I know him well enough.”

“Enough to know he's a little shit, you mean.”

“Essentially.” Hannibal took a drink and stoked the fire a bit. “I'm sorry he did that to you. I can assure you he was only attempting to impress Lucius, or something equally pathetic.”

“I don't get your whole Slytherin hierarchy bullshit, you know that? Sorry, I mean...it's not your fault, I guess...or maybe it is. I don't know which of you all are assholes and which aren't, and at this point I just don't care.”

“Well, I hope you don't see me that way, Will. But I understand what you mean.”

“No, I don't think you're an asshole. Yet, I guess.”

“I'm satisfied with that.”

Will pondered for a few minutes while they drank in silence. “I...maybe it's just me or something, but Lucius looked like he was afraid when he saw you, earlier. What was that about?”

Will saw the corners of Hannibals mouth twitch.

“Hm. I'm not sure. But hopefully he understands that I'm not going to be happy with him after tonight.”

“Are you friends?”

“We've known each other for a very long time.”

“I get the feeling none of you actually like each other at all.”

“I can't speak for anyone but myself, but to be frank...no. I don't consider any of my housemates friends. Would you like to play a game of chess, Will?”

“Sure, why not. Want me to grab that cognac?”

“Fetch whatever you like from the cabinet. It's all mine. I have a lovely 1926 single-malt whiskey in there that you might enjoy.”

“God, what the hell are you? You're making me feel like some kind of plebian.”

“I'm a Count, actually. If you were really wondering.”

Will laughed hesitantly until he realized Hannibal was being honest. Hannibal's stony face turned warm again and they laughed as they set up the chessboard together.

 

 

 


	2. Carnivorous Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a strange first day of class at Hogwarts. Sexual tension ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bulk of my notes for this chapter is basically just "bc Hannibal is so super gay." Also, I just want to thank everyone who commented and left kudos!! It makes my whole day, guys!! Feel free to send me any ideas or suggestions, or correct me on my HP facts...whatever you want.

“Now, legilimency is _not_ something that I will be teaching you to perform in this class. It is considered one of the most advanced magical arts, not to mention very dangerous...and quite frankly, it is frowned upon by many for being too _invasive_.”

Professor Merrythought winced as she turned toward the class, clearly uncomfortable with today's subject matter.

“On the other hand, Hogwarts faculty must now take into account the current state of the wizarding world when deciding upon curriculum for its students. We are...at war, after all... _therefore_ ,” she huffed, “we _will_ take a brief look at the defensive art of _occlumency_. If you all turn to page 493 in your textbooks, you will see a helpful diagram....”

Will stared down at his book mindlessly, too tired to focus his eyes. He had stayed up playing chess with Hannibal past midnight. The half-bottle of whiskey he consumed wasn't doing him any favors this morning, either.

“As you can see, occlumency can be utilized by anyone to protect themselves from a legilimens' invasion of the mind. This is an indispensable talent, but takes many years to master....”

_Invasion of the mind?_

Will squinted and began to skim the text, his curiosity piqued by the mere idea of mind-reading. He recalled weird, distant memories of himself as a child, in the years right after he had learned his mother was a witch. Like any kid who thought they might have magical powers, Will had tried endlessly to move things with his mind or wish things into existence, but it never worked. The one... _magical_ thing that he remembered ever pulling off was being able to tell what people around him were going to say before they said it. He had thought that it was probably just a fluke at first, but nevertheless managed to do it several times, or so he thought. He had forgotten about it altogether by his first year at Hogwarts.

The sensation of...” _mind-reading”_ rushed back to him – the way it felt to see bits and pieces of someone's thoughts, to _see_ words. It was abstract and unstructured; he never could have used it for nefarious purposes. The idea of it sent a chill down his spine, yet he had an urge to get that sensation again.

\---------------------------------------------

Walking through the bustling corridor between class and the dining hall, Will accidentally collided with Frederick Chilton.

_Oh, fuck, his cane!_

The cane was knocked out from under Frederick's arm, sending him and his belongings to the stone floor with an ugly crash.

“Oh my god, Chilton, I'm sorry...I didn't mean --”

Will looked down at him, only to find that he was as white as a sheet, scrambling to gather his books. His hands were shaking. Will bent down to pick up the cane and gently handed it back to Chilton.

“Chilton? Are...are you okay?”

“Just leave me alone, please...please,” he gasped. Yanking the cane back from Will, he clambered back to his feet and turned to head back in the direction he had just come from. Will watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

_What the hell was that all about?_

Will considered for a moment, hit with a cold wave of anxiety.

_Oh god, maybe Hannibal got into a fight with him about last night...or maybe he's just as hungover as I am._

He made his way to the dining hall and sat down at one of the gigantic tables, scooting himself away from the nearest students and digging deep into his bag for one of his books.

“Hey. Lose something?”

Will looked up to see Alana Bloom standing beside him, her head tilted to one side in puzzlement. She was taller than Will, but that was probably because she wore high heels to school every day. She also wore bright red lipstick, even for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It contrasted with her skin like blood in snow. She looked like she could rule the world.

_Jesus, I'm just staring at her._

“Oh! Uh...no, just...just looking for something.” Will laughed nervously. Alana nodded, and there was a long silence.

“So...can I sit here?”

Will's eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally, go right ahead...let me move my...stuff. Sorry.”

“That's alright. How was your summer, Will?”

“It was okay. How 'bout yours?”

“Mine was good. Nothing too exciting, you know. Whatcha reading?”

“Uh...oh, just uhh... _1984._ George Orwell.”

“Right on. I remember my sister had to read that in high school.”

  
“Yeah. It's uh...pretty good.”

_Fuck, I'm stupid._

“Cool.” Alana smiled then stopped talking, probably for Will's sake. He picked up his book and promptly buried his nose and blushing cheeks into it.

As he went to turn to the next page, Will's eyes gravitated toward Slytherin's tables at the opposite end of the room. Sure enough, there was Hannibal, sitting near the aisle next to Parkinson and Malfoy.

As if he sensed he was being watched, Hannibal's gaze rose to meet Will's, then remained there for several lengthy moments as the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

Will wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and went back to his book, unable to absorb the words he was reading. He was getting a rather unusual amount of attention this afternoon.

Suddenly, the letters and commas and periods on the pages in his hands seemed to shift and fade. Will's heart stopped briefly as he tried to blink his vision back to normal.

 _I must need sleep_ , he tried to reassure himself.

But on second glance, Orwell's black ink letters had reorganized themselves into a message:

_I'd like to see you again soon, Mr. Graham._

Will reflexively looked back over the top of the book to see Hannibal looking his way again. Will's face scrunched in an unspoken question: _what the hell?_ Hannibal laughed to himself and made a writing motion in the air with one hand, then Will saw him stop to look down and pencil something.

_Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. Just a simple charm. Are you busy tonight?_

_No, I don't have any plans,_ Will scribbled under Hannibal's message. _What did you have in mind?_

_Meet me in the greenhouses at 8:00._

_Whatever floats your boat. I'll be there._

_See you then, William._

\---------------------------------------------

“The fanged geranium is an incredible species. Many people avoid them out of fear, and in turn they have become quite rare,” Hannibal recited as he watered several strange-looking potted plants. “If you care for them properly, they're actually very friendly.”

Hannibal had volunteered to take care of Professor Sprout's carnivorous plants as part of a group project. He and Will were alone in the greenhouse, save for the hundreds of brightly-colored, otherwordly-looking plants. It was humid and fragrant, with only moonlight to illuminate their surroundings.

“Anyway, I digress. How was your first day of classes, Will?”

“It was...kind of weird, actually.”

“Really? How so?”

Will described his literal run-in with Chilton that morning while Hannibal rolled up his sleeves and began re-potting a venomous tentacula.

“Curious. Perhaps he's fallen ill?”

“Yeah, maybe...did you happen to talk to him last night? I thought maybe you...scared him off somehow.”

Hannibal laughed softly. “No, I did not talk to him. Perhaps he's feeling guilty about what happened yesterday, and rightfully so.”

“Hah. Yeah, I doubt it.”

Will strode around the greenhouse admiring the plants while Hannibal worked in silence for several minutes. Hannibal had never seemed like the type to lie, he thought to himself. But he got a strange feeling something _had_ happened between Hannibal and Chilton, which he didn't like. Hannibal didn't need to waste time getting involved in Will's insignificant battles, especially since they had only just met.

As he rounded the corner, Will watched Hannibal diligently and gracefully filling gigantic ceramic pots with soil and fertilizer. He suddenly got an atrocious idea, and his curiosity became overwhelming.

_I wonder...._

He took a few steps toward Hannibal, until only a few feet separated them. With all of his focus on Hannibal, he uttered a nonverbal incantation in his mind.

_Legilimens._

Will staggered back a few steps when a remarkable repelling force seemed to crash into his mind like a shield clattering against a sword. At the same time, Hannibal looked up at him, his face reflecting surprise. He stood up then, facing Will, wiping soil off his hands with a towel. They looked at each other for a stretching, silent moment. Will took a step back.

“I – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have....”

“No, you shouldn't have.”

Will heard something in Hannibal's voice that felt like ice in his veins. Saw Hannibal's facade crumbling between them, revealing only disappointment.

“Quite a marvelous attempt, though, Mr. Graham. I must applaud your efforts.”

“What?” Will was slightly taken aback by Hannibal's response to his...violation.

“You would have succeeded were I not trained in occlumency. How did you learn to do that?”

“I've just...always kind of been able to. I don't know.”

“An exceptional talent. Is it something you do often?”

“No...actually, I haven't done it for years.”

Hannibal's face distorted with great curiosity.

“Tell me, Will. How does it feel, when you're in someone's mind?”

“It feels like I've become liquid or air, and all I can see and feel is whatever is floating past me. I can't feel anything, and I can't control anything. It's like -”

“Like you're in a dream that is not your own.”

“Yeah,” Will breathed. “It's like that. You can do it too?”

“Yes. Perhaps not as well as you can, though. With a talent like that for legilimency, you would have made for a great Slytherin. What a pity.” Hannibal hummed.

They sat beside one another on top of a wooden workbench. Will looked out into the fields beyond the greenhouses, listening to the chirping of crickets, the settling of the greenhouse's old beams, and the ruffle of sentient plants shifting their leaves.

“Have you ever tried to read my mind?”

Hannibal looked at Will for a long moment. The moonlight was motionless on his face, light blue beams glowing through the window and leaving their skin transparent...luminescent.

“I just did.” Hannibal gave a small smile.

“Well, I deserved that. What did you see?”

“Hm. I felt fear, but also relief. A strange combination, I must say. Are you afraid of me, Will?”

“I don't know.”

Hannibal said nothing for a few minutes.

“You like Alana Bloom, I see,” Hannibal said playfully.

“Oh, Jesus. That's embarrassing. Uh...I mean, I'm not sure. We're just friends. I'm...sorry about that.” Will fumbled.

“Sorry about what?”

“Hah...I don't know. Thinking about Alana, I guess? Or, you seeing me thinking about her? You know what I mean.”

“Why would I be upset that you were thinking about Alana?”

Hannibal waited for a moment, then slid off the table and turned towards Will, carefully examining each individual inch of his face. He laid his hands on either side of Will, fingers wrapped around the wooden tabletop, his hips hovering in front of Will's bent knees. Will could feel a prickle of adrenaline shooting through him, dilating his veins, his blood floating towards the surface of his skin and turning him solid magenta. He prayed that he was hidden well enough in the shadows.

He opened his mouth to respond, but it took several seconds for anything to come out.

“I...I don't know, it - it just feels weird. I'm sorry.”

Will felt disgraceous, sputtering like this in front of Hannibal. He was continuously caught off guard by his own reactions and constantly unsure of what was coming. It made his head feel unbearably light. Hannibal leaned in closer.

“No need to apologize, Will....”

Hannibal's thumbs slowly edged up against Will's outer thighs.

_Fuck._

His hips shifted forward, flush against Will's knees now. He arched his neck towards Will until their faces were only an inch apart, warm energy circling between them like floating leaves.

“... _Not if you're just friends_.”

Will's chest melted helplessly towards Hannibal's, his last breath escaping him in a rush. Hannibal smiled, then turned away from Will and left the greenhouse, the old screen door clapping behind him. Will sat in the dark alone, his heart pounding loud enough for him to hear.

 


	3. Amortentia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns more about Hannibal. Then, Will learns more about himself.  
> In the process, AlphaRail does a lot of googling and sets herself up to probably get fishing supply store ads for the rest of her life.

When the weekend finally came, Will woke up before dawn and sluggishly dug through his closet for his old jacket and fishing pole. The halls of the school were completely empty when he left the dormitory, which no longer surprised him when he walked around the campus at this hour on a Saturday. He walked through the frost-covered courtyards and past the edge of the Forbidden Forest, settling eventually on a smooth, flat rock that offered a full view of the Great Lake sprawling out before him. Shivering, he baited his hook with a morsel of meat and cast it into the dark water.  
  
The last few days had felt surreal. Will needed a few hours of solitude to collect his thoughts and silence his mind. _Someday_ , he thought, _maybe I'll get a house out here in Scotland, right on the water. Get a boat. Every morning could be just like this._ He stared out onto the glassy surface of the lake, admiring its stillness, letting its gentle sounds float around him. He usually tried not to think about what lurked in that deep water; that wasn't exactly relaxing. The Giant Squid was kind enough to share his home with the swimmers in Summer, and with the little wooden boats that lined the shore. Whatever other creatures inhabited the lake's depths...well, all Will knew was that they didn't like ham.  
  
After a good half hour of absently watching the surface of the lake, something tugged on the fishing line. Will snapped up straight to look for the bob in the water.  
  
“Will?”  
  
“Huh? Oh...oh shit!”  
  
Will's grip on the fishing rod tightened in vain as his catch yanked him toward the water. He slid down through the dirt and mud and then finally let go, his pole flying in an arc to the middle of the lake, ham and all. Several large bubbles rippled the surface of the water, and the rod disappeared. Will gawked, horrified and suddenly much more awake.  
  
“My goodness. Must have been a ramora.” Hannibal laughed from behind him, walking down to the shore to help Will to his feet.  
  
“H-Hannibal, hey. Good morning,” Will coughed, brushing dirt off of his jeans. “You know, you must have a thing for watching me embarrass myself.” Hannibal peeled a wet leaf off of Will's jacket. “Also, a ramora? Here?”  
  
“You'd be surprised what sorts of creatures were imported into this lake over the past few centuries.”  
  
“Well...Jesus. Thing took my whole setup. There goes my morning, I guess.”  
  
“You like to fish?”  
  
“Yeah, you know...I used to live in New Orleans, right on the Mississippi River. So I come out here sometimes, when the weather's nice. Helps me relax.”  
  
The two of them climbed back onto the flat rock and Will pulled off his mud-caked boots.  
  
“I'm very sorry about your fishing pole, then. Quite unfortunate. But at least you're right in time for the sunrise, hm?” Hannibal smiled. He didn't seem like the type of guy to see the positive side of a situation, Will thought, but somehow he did anyway. Will smiled crookedly.  
  
“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, why are you out here so early?”  
  
“Collecting horklumps for the greenhouse. Rather useful little creatures, you know, but they prefer to come out during the twilight hours.”  
  
Will didn't hear anything Hannibal said after the word “greenhouse.” His cheeks turned pink and his thoughts shifted back to last night. Hannibal sat beside him, watching as the pink and orange horizon melted its way into the steel grey sky.  
  
“Where are you from, Hannibal?”  
  
“Lithuania.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “You know, I'm surprised it took you this long to ask. Most people wonder where my accent comes from before they even ask me my name.”  
  
“Hah. Well, I guess your accent just...fits you, you know?” Will offered. “Unusual. Mysterious. Doesn't really seem strange when it's coming from your mouth.”  
  
“Unusual and mysterious, says the man who goes fishing alone in the dark.”  
  
Will smiled. “Yeah, point taken.”  
  
“What is it like in New Orleans, Will?”  
  
“Um...hot. Humid. Loud. But great food. And you can drink in public, so there's that.”  
  
“Can you show me?”  
  
“What? You want me to _take you_ – oh, _oh!_ Yeah...sure, I can show you. Let me just....”  
  
Will scrunched his face in concentration, trying to imagine his home as vividly as he could. Then, he felt Hannibal's mind touching his own, as if it were knocking on the door. He opened it, and Hannibal entered. Will showed him his house, and his father's boat, and his favorite fishing spot. He showed him the French Quarter, nets full of crawfish, and streets lined with colorful little houses. There were glimpses of a giant willow tree, boarded-up windows, and the halls of Will's old school. It felt lively, lonely, and nostalgic all at once.  
  
Hannibal slipped away after a few moments and Will opened his eyes.  
  
“It's beautiful, Will. Thank you.”  
  
“Can you show me Lithuania?”  
  
Hannibal watched Will for a moment before he responded.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Their minds connected once more. Hannibal showed him cobblestone streets running through the bustling city, a graveyard dusted with snow, a forest with trees that blocked out the sun, and ancient cathedrals with spires like lace against the sky. Will could feel a dull sense of sadness in everything Hannibal imagined. There were flashes of freshly-baked bread, the smell of autumn leaves, a young girl with sandy blonde hair, and then fire. And blood.  
  
Will was shoved out of the memory in an instant. He opened his eyes and Hannibal was pushing himself to his feet, gathering his supplies to take to the greenhouse.  
  
“Hannibal? What's the matter?”  
  
“I'm sorry, Will.”  
  
Hannibal began walking back to the castle without another word.

  


\---------------------------------------------

  


They didn't speak to one another for the rest of the weekend.  
  
Will was inexplicably ashamed of whatever had happened between himself and Hannibal, but had no idea what to say. He thought maybe he had crossed some weird line and that things between them would just be awkward forever and ever. It was a strange feeling, dealing with something like this. A friend, or something. Will had avoided socializing so effectively over the last several years that he forgot what it felt like to worry about someone.  
  
Will spent his Sunday afternoon in the library, tucked away in a candlelit corner, blowing dust off old books about occlumency. His fascination with legilimency was so deeply intensified when he was able to share the experience with Hannibal, but he was swiftly nonplussed when their connection was severed so abruptly. It had felt like trying to spit out candy, or having the covers ripped off of you during a peaceful sleep. Like he was left wanting more of what he had felt. Why and _how_ did Hannibal even manage to do that? Will's curiosity got the best of him and led him to the far corners of the most untouched bookshelves.  
  
Authors likened occlumency to only the most advanced and complex magic. It apparently took years to become a mediocre occlumens, and occlumency tutors were clearly few and far between except in much darker circles. The training process was psychologically exhausting and physically painful. Most occlumens didn't reveal their ability, simply to keep their reasons for learning it in the first place a secret. Most occlumens were either upper-level government employees or criminals.  
  
He decided not to follow his fascinations any further, but did manage to scribble out a substantial amount of notes on the subject for his own study. He gathered his things, hands aching, then folded back into the armchair and closed his bleary eyes. It was past 9:00 at night, and the library was silent but for the soft whispers of candlelight. All he was left with was more questions.  
  
_What does Hannibal have to hide, and how long has he had to hide it?_

  


\---------------------------------------------

  


On Monday morning, after grabbing some breakfast and taking a frankly insufficient shower, Will walked back to the dormitory to get ready for class. As he stood in front of the mirror buttoning his shirt, he noticed something in his reflection – a wooden trunk sitting on his bed. He turned around and pulled a small note from under its leather handle. The handwriting inside was impeccable and flowery.  
  
“ _To help you relax. I charmed them to repel remora. Yours, H._ ”  
  
Will snapped open the metal closures and opened the lid of the trunk. Inside sat three _very expensive-looking_ two-piece fishing rods, their six pieces each snug in their own little custom-fit sections. There were brand new jig heads, extra line, weights, hooks, bobbers.... Will admired everything individually for several blissful minutes before he began to feel strangely undeserving of such a generous gift, not to mention clueless as to how he was supposed to react to it. He quickly set everything back in its place, shut the trunk, and slid it safely under his bed before he headed off, rattled, to potions class.

  


\---------------------------------------------

  


The last few stragglers filtered into the classroom as Professor Slughorn waddled to the podium. Will tolerated potions – straightforward for the most part, like chemistry or math. Plus, Alana Bloom was kind enough to partner up with him on their projects, so he got to spend a little time with her here and there. Sure, she was sweet and nice to look at, but she was also smart as a damn whip, and Will liked to make her laugh. She sat down next to him, dropped her bag heavily and tied her hair up, little tendrils falling around her face like blades of tall grass in the breeze.  
  
“Hey,” she whispered.  
  
Will smiled in response, fingers twitching in an awkward attempt at a wave. Slughorn coughed to gain the attention of the room. His voice was blubbery and booming.  
  
“Today, we will be working on a rather interesting little project! You may actually want to pay attention today, Mr. Zeller!”  
  
Brian Zeller perked up. “I'm all ears, Captain!”  
  
“Righto! We're going to be learning about amortentia this morning. You may've heard of it – the most powerful love potion in the world, or so some say. I rather think a good whiskey does a fine enough job. Now, as usual, we won't be imbibing any potions. I mean, you could. But let's just say I'll make sure you regret it.”  
  
Slughorn chuckled knowingly to himself. He turned around and began scrawling the list of ingredients and instructions on the chalkboard. Alana procured a mortar and pestle and got to work while Slughorn continued.  
  
“Now, obviously making such a potion would be quite boring were we not to test it out at all. So, you'll be happy to know that you need only smell your potion to experience some of its fascinating qualities. Amortentia will be odorless until it reaches its last stage, at which point it will take on the scent of whatever person you find most attractive! My wife was quite irate when she discovered that I smell wet dog, anti-fungal ointment, and burnt pudding!”  
  
Giggles echoed through the room, and Slughorn began demonstrating the recipe for the class. Will picked up a short knife and got to chopping up beetle wings.  
  
“Well, this ought to be interesting,” Alana laughed.  
  
“Yeah, no kidding.”  
  
Will suddenly realized that this could become quite awkward if he...well, smelled Alana in their batch of amortentia. He'd just have to make something up if anyone asked, he figured. The tips of his ears slowly turned red at the thought. He lost focus, but fumbled through the brewing process with the help of his more-competent partner.  
  
Smoke spiraled from their cauldron as Will stopped stirring and let the potion settle. It was pearly, sparkling white. Will consciously kept himself from breathing through his nose until he steeled himself and leaned over the gleaming surface. The scent wafted gently into him, innocuous at first.  
  
After a moment, he smelled something but couldn't quite place it. Alana leaned over and smelled the fumes thoughtfully beside him. The whole class was just sitting, smelling... more engaged than they'd probably ever been. He closed his eyes.  
  
_Fresh laundry, damp soil, leather, cognac._  
  
_Well, shit._


End file.
